


Homecoming

by estelraca



Category: Kamen Rider Decade
Genre: Brainwashing, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years have passed since the Hikari Photo Studio became a place that Kaitou Daiki returns to on a regular basis, inhabited by people he cares far too much for.  When Kaitou is brainwashed by Dai-Destron, the others are there to find him and bring him home. Natsumi/Kaitou/Tsukasa/Yuusuke, established relationship, vague spoilers through the 2014 crossover movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hi_no_senshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_no_senshi/gifts).



_Homecoming_

_Fire._

The command is a burning brand in his mind, an impulse that tightens Kaitou's finger around the trigger of DienDriver. He stops himself from actually shooting, though, because something about this situation isn't right.

"Kaitou, put it down. We can _help_ you. Natsumi and Yuusuke are looking for a way to free you, so _put your driver down_." Tsukasa's voice is tense, a mixture of anger and fear, and Kaitou wishes he could see Tsukasa's face, that it wasn't hidden by the mask. He's never seen what Tsukasa looks like when he's afraid—afraid of _Kaitou_ , no less, finally accepting that Kaitou has the upper hand.

(He doesn't _want_ to see it, though, not like this, not like this, he wants to follow Tsukasa's instructions like he never has before but he _can't_ , it hurts so much and he _can't—_ )

Shaking his head, flames burning across his thoughts, Kaitou frowns between Decade and DienDriver. There is something familiar about this situation.

(He did it before, he shot Tsukasa in the head, he stood there and he called Tsukasa's name and he pulled the trigger and—)

And it doesn't work. Shooting Decade in the head doesn't work. It just results in the armor upgrading to a stronger form, repairing the damage that was done.

(Tsukasa's eye staring at him through a broken helmet, so cold and accusing and sad, and he needs to turn this around, use this, _fix_ this and maybe this is the way—)

_Fire_.

The command burns through, implacable, insistent.

Spinning DienDriver around, so that the barrel faces his own head, Kaitou pulls the trigger.

XXX

Kaitou wakes up somewhere warm.

This is good. Warmth is good. Waking up is good.

The only thing that isn't good is the pounding agony in his head, and he would groan except he has the distinct impression that this would make his head hurt even more.

Fingers brush across his forehead, slim and calloused.

Kaitou's eyes fly open, his hands scrabbling at the bedding as he tries to sit up. He can't help it, though he immediately regrets the action, the pain in his head lancing down through his neck and churning a roiling nausea to life in his gut. He has to see who is near him, though. He has to see who is touching him—who is close enough to do _anything_ to him without his knowledge.

Three pairs of eyes blink at him, three sets of hands immediately grasp onto his swaying body, and he realizes with a jolt of embarrassment-tinged relief that he is in the Hikari Photo Studio. In the room that is ostensibly Tsukasa and Yuusuke's room, though all of them tend to congregate here. He is on a bed roll on the floor, with Natsumi and Tsukasa on his left and Yuusuke on his right.

It was Tsukasa's fingers that brushed across his forehead. If not for the pain in his head, he likely would have recognized that immediately. All three of these people have a distinct touch to them—Yuusuke's hand slightly warmer than either of the others, Natsumi's fingers more slender but no less calloused, Tsukasa's... well, Tsukasa's.

Firm and certain and possessive and glorious but Kaitou didn't _permit_ him to touch him now.

Kaitou didn't permit any of them to touch him, but he still allows Natsumi and Yuusuke to help him lie back down again. It's probably better than trying to do everything himself and ending up throwing up on himself. Or them.

Once he's lying down again he finds that the nausea fades, and if he squints his eyes just so he can study the people hovering over him without _too_ much extra agony.

"Kaitou." Tsukasa is the first to speak, his eyes narrowed, his voice thick. "How are you?"

"Sore." Kaitou swallows, finding his own voice raspy and thin, his throat painful.

Before he can ask for water Yuusuke is holding a glass with a straw while Natsumi lifts his head gently off the pillow, helping him to drink.

"Slowly." The single word is a command, though Yuusuke's eyes are filled with sympathy. "You'll regret it if you don't."

Remembering how often Yuusuke has been injured, Kaitou takes his instructions to heart, though it is hard not to simply drain the whole cup dry.

Or... maybe not so hard, as the suction required to drink through the straw causes pain to crest again in his head. What _happened_ to him?

"Do you remember what happened?" Natsumi meets his eyes, but there's a tense wariness to her gaze, a hesitancy to the way her hand settles on his arm that doesn't belong there. It's an expression he's seen before, he knows, but not aimed at him. It's the type of expression she usually turns on Yuusuke after...

Oh, no.

Really?

"You shot yourself in the head." Tsukasa is staring at him with a mixture of admiration and fear. " _Why?_ "

"Because it seemed like a good idea at the time." Kaitou raises his right hand and drapes it over his eyes, keeping himself from meeting anyone's accusing glances. "I mean, I was brainwashed and crazy, right? I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

"You protected Tsukasa." Yuusuke's fingers stroke through his hair, and it's a frighteningly _nice_ feeling, just like it always is. The type of feeling that Kaitou wants to have continue forever, though he knows that's ridiculous, knows that this camaraderie they have is tentative and fragile and far too easily broken.

(Though it has survived for six years now. Though Tsukasa always comes back, and no matter how often he is hurt Yuusuke never breaks or runs away, and Natsumi is a hero and a point of stability both, keeping the Hikari Photo Studio running. Perhaps, soon, he can stop fearing that this will break?)

"You did something incredibly stupid!" There is a fuming anger in Tsukasa's voice, and Kaitou spreads his fingers so that he can peek out between them and return Tsukasa's glare.

"I saved your life, you know." He hesitates after he says the words, because they're probably not true. Tsukasa has survived worse than Kaitou. Tsukasa has faced all the heroes of the worlds; Tsukasa has faced Yuusuke, wrapped in darkness; Tsukasa has faced _himself_ , the monster that he was born and raised and trained to be. What is one little thief compared to that?

"You tried to kill yourself! Even Yuusuke doesn't—"

"I didn't want to shoot you again! Not like that!" Shouting is a bad idea. Shouting makes his eyes tear up and his head hurt more and he wants to run away but he _can't_. Even the thought of forming a portal between worlds right now makes his limbs feel like pools of jelly.

"You did what you could." There is again that deep sympathy in Yuusuke's eyes—a sympathy that Kaitou doesn't want. "That order... shooting Tsukasa like that..."

"It's something you've done before." Natsumi swallows, looking away, and her hand shakes where it has crept up to his shoulder, a subtle tremor. He forgets, sometimes, that she, too, has been made a puppet by their enemies at times, danced to tunes that were not of her own making. "Something you knew wasn't going to work."

"And you used that to break out of the programming enough to make yourself no longer a threat. No longer a danger." Yuusuke leans down and places a gentle kiss to Kaitou's hand where it still sits over his eyes, a useless shield. "That was very brave, Kaitou."

"It was very stupid." Kaitou can only remember bits and snatches of what happened—the horror of having an action demanded of him, the _frustration_ that _he_ would be told what to do. He doesn't take orders—not from _anyone_. To have them in his head, in _control_ of him—he _will not_ be like his brother, like all the people he sacrificed to Fourteen, like all the people broken by DaiShocker, he _will not_ be anyone's toy soldier he will die first he will—

He has both hands to his face now, and his breathing is rough and ragged. Stupid. Foolish. He didn't mean to do this. He doesn't remember doing it, actually, doesn't remember when the panic attack started, when it became so damn hard to _breathe—_

A calloused thumb runs over his chin, over his mouth, and he knows, suddenly, part of why he is having trouble breathing. Tsukasa had been hanging back before, behind Natsumi and Yuusuke—though Kaitou is sure it was Tsukasa's hand that woke him. Now Tsukasa is crouched atop him, Tsukasa's face less than ten centimeters from him.

(Tsukasa is not the only one that has moved—Yuusuke is lying against Kaitou's right side, a fire burning hot, one hand on Tsukasa's shoulder; Natsumi lies against Kaitou's left side, also with a hand on Tsukasa. Flanking both of them, grounding both of them, and though it shouldn't it makes Kaitou relax, knowing that all three of these people are here with him. For him.)

"Never, ever risk yourself like that again." Tsukasa's words are a soft hiss, his face a conflicting rictus of fear and possessiveness and pride. "Just put the gun down or, if you _really_ need to shoot yourself, shoot yourself in the foot or something."

"But I like my feet." Kaitou forces a smile, forces his hands to move away from his face and his eyes to open so that he can watch Tsukasa more clearly. "They're important for my work."

Tsukasa's eyes narrow. "I would imagine so's your brain."

Yuusuke still has one hand buried in Kaitou's hair, massaging his scalp with the gentlest, most soothing motions. "It's not that kind of choice, Tsukasa. When you're fighting someone or something inside you like that... you don't wait for the best-case scenario. You look for any opportunity, any chance to break free, and you take it."

"It was because of what happened before. During..." Natsumi's voice trails off, but she doesn't need to name it. There is only one event in their lives that they all tip-toe around, verbally, mentally, emotionally. One terrible event that shaped what they are, to each other, with each other, and which they try, very hard, to ignore. "You shot Tsukasa in the head and it didn't help anything."

"It made everything worse." Kaitou sighs, staring up into Tsukasa's strained face. "When I shot you in the head before, it made everything a thousand times worse, and giving you an upgraded armor and a desire to kill was not what my programmers wanted."

He almost chokes on the word programmers, but forces the word out, keeping his face as impassive as possible. He will not let them win. He will not let them have him, no matter what.

(He will be as strong as Yuusuke, getting up again and again from the worst fate that Kaitou can imagine. From the fate that broke Kaitou, broke his faith in the world and his place in it. From the... _thing_ that Kaitou just went through, and he will _not_ be weaker than Yuusuke.)

"You did the best you could, Kaitou." Natsumi presses a kiss to the skin of his neck, her fingers joining Yuusuke's against his scalp. "You did just fine."

A sound that is half-growl rolls out of Tsukasa's mouth, and he leans down, obliterating the space between them.

His lips are gentle when they touch Kaitou's, though. Hesitant, uncertain—afraid? Afraid _of_ Kaitou? No, never. Tsukasa never fears him—never _feared_ him, even when Kaitou held the keys to Tsukasa's past. Afraid _for_ Kaitou, and that's something Kaitou will not allow.

Kaitou is the one who deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding over Tsukasa's teeth, demanding entrance to his mouth. His lips pressing hard, forming themselves to Tsukasa's, promising that he is strong, he is sure, he is _fine_.

Tsukasa sighs when the kiss is done, pulling back slowly, and his expression is now one of confidence. "Well, if you can still kiss like that, I suppose you're all right."

"I didn't do it _that_ foolishly. I mean, if _Decade_ survived a direct hit from DienDriver, _Diend_ sure as hell should. It was designed to fight Decade, after all."

"It was." Tsukasa slides backwards, off of Kaitou, his expression thoughtful as he studies the thief. "It was still a risk, and one I'd rather you not take in the future."

"I'm not planning on getting into situations like that a lot in the future."

Yuusuke gives a small, bitter snort, and Kaitou regrets the words.

It's not like Yuusuke chose to be subjected to what he was.

But Kaitou _can't_ go through that often. He just can't. The thought of it makes his skin crawl, makes his vision haze out, makes him wish for anything, _anything_ else.

(Except... not quite. Not anymore. He will take the temporary loss of himself over the permanent loss of any of these people. It is the horror of having almost hurt Tsukasa that burns worse than the horror of having been made a toy. And it is having them here, with him, touching him, caring for him, that is making both situations bearable in the least.)

"How _did_ you end up there, anyway?" Natsumi murmurs the words into his ear, her tongue licking gently at the lobe in a motion that is both soothing and infuriating.

Kaitou reaches out a hand, sets it against her cheek, and she stops, watching him. Waiting for him to give some clue as to what he wants. Right now... right now he just wants her _there_ , firm at his side, and he taps his finger against her cheek.

She seems to get the message, as she curls tighter against him, one arm draping itself across his chest.

"Kaitou?" Yuusuke's voice holds a question.

Kaitou barely resists the urge to squirm. He had been hoping they would simply not ask again if he didn't answer. "It doesn't matter."

"You were helping them." Tsukasa has one hand on Kaitou's left thigh, and his fingers tighten, a barely perceptible gesture. "That's what Shiro said. That you promised to help him get Yuki back."

Kaitou tries to look away, but no matter which direction he looks one of them is there. Yuusuke, with a growing smile on his face; Natsumi, with a hint of a teasing grin to her eyes; Tsukasa, still looking confused, studying the other two with a vaguely annoyed expression.

"And that's exactly what it was." Yuusuke hugs him, a band of fire across his chest, presses warm kisses down the right side of Kaitou's face. "You were doing exactly what Shiro said, helping him try to get Yuki back."

"There could have been treasure in the base!" Kaitou closes his eyes, avoiding their expressions, the dawning look of realization on Tsukasa's face. "There could have been lots of treasure. I hate leaving a world before I find treasure."

"And you hate brain-washing." Tsukasa's tone is pensive, musing. "And you hate falling behind me."

"This has nothing to do with you and your new hero complex and your ghost-boy— _oh_." Kaitou gasps as Natsumi leans over him, claiming his mouth in a deep, glorious kiss.

Natsumi's fingers trail across his cheek, her eyes sliding suggestively up and down his body. "I think you'd best work on getting healed up, Kaitou. You know how we feel about heroes in this house."

Kaitou draws a breath, closing his eyes, purposefully ignoring the stirring of longing that comes with Natsumi's suggestion. "I'm not a hero."

"You are." Yuusuke's fingers trail across his stomach, a suggestion, a trail of sparks to light a fire that he _wishes_ he felt good enough to enjoy right now. "You have been for a long time. I'm proud of you for finally owning up to it."

"I haven't!" Kaitou moans into Yuusuke's mouth as Yuusuke replaces Natsumi, stealing his own deep kiss. "Even if I wanted to, which... I am not saying... I didn't succeed in anything. All I did was add myself to the ranks of soldiers Dai-Destron had."

(He did want to be a hero, though he doesn't think he can ever admit that out loud. If Tsukasa is able to do it now, able to call himself a Kamen Rider and a hero and try to save worlds just because they _need_ it, just because it's what Yuusuke and Natsumi would want him to do...

(And Shiro looked just a bit like Yuusuke, wide, haunted, _good_ eyes, and he sounded just a bit like Natsumi as he asked for help. Proud and yet brought almost to the point of begging for help in retrieving the person who had fought beside him for the last six months—begging for someone to stand with him against the force that was slowly creeping over their world and trying to corrupt all the heroes, trying to turn the heroes into monsters...

(Kaitou thought he could do at least this one thing. He thought he could save one man from that horrific fate. He thought he could slip in and steal a man as he stole objects and that would be his good deed for the year, his payment for crimes not yet committed, for loving Natsumi and Yuuuke and even Tsukasa but not being as _good_ as they are.

(He was wrong.)

"You were one piece in the puzzle." Tsukasa speaks into the churning silence, his voice certain and firm. "You were the reason Natsumi, Yuusuke and I came to that world. You were the reason Shiro knew that there were other worlds—knew that there were others he could reach out to for help. No, things didn't go the way you wanted, but it doesn't matter. You tried. You were a hero."

Kaitou opens his eyes, swallowing hard against the tight knot in his throat that is blocking out words. Keeping him from saying that Tsukasa is wrong, that Kaitou is not a hero, that heroes are not real and that the three people surrounding him—the three _heroes_ surrounding him—are mythical, mystical, not to be trusted.

(Keeping him from saying thank you, from putting himself even deeper into Tsukasa's debt by admitting that he wanted to hear that, that he wanted Tsukasa to say that heroes are real, that heroes are something to aspire to, and that Kaitou is succeeding.)

Eventually he manages to force out a sound—a choked, non-committal laugh that says nothing. (But in the silence of not fighting he admits their truth, at least for now, is the one he wants to share.) "Did you guys succeed?"

"We killed them." Yuusuke's voice has a curious flat quality to it, and when Kaitou turns to meet his gaze his eyes are dark, black flickering and licking from the iris out into the rest of the eye.

Natsumi reaches across Kaitou, gently setting a hand on Yuusuke's shoulder. "We saved Yuki and as many of the others as we could. Dai-Destron won't ever bother that world again."

Kaitou can feel Yuusuke's hand burning on his abdomen, the man's skin hot as a furnace. Then Yuusuke closes his eyes, leaning into Natsumi's touch—into Tsukasa's touch, though Kaitou hadn't seen Tsukasa move, just sees his hand on Yuusuke's hip now—and nods his head. The burning slowly fades, until Yuusuke's skin is once more just slightly hotter than a normal man's. "Yes. We did well. Shiro and Yuki did well. Their world will be fine."

Kaitou glances at Tsukasa, but a quick shake of Tsukasa's head says that he doesn't want to talk about it. Doesn't want to explain the price they paid—the price Yuusuke paid—to save Kaitou and the others.

(He worries, sometimes, that if _they_ are rubbing off on _him_ like this, maybe _he_ will rub off on _them_. And a little bit would be all right—a little bit would maybe keep Yuusuke from being hurt so often, keep Natsumi from loving people who don't always deserve it quite so deeply—but too much...

(He doesn't want to be the one to break the heroes, even if they aren't supposed to be real.)

"I'm all right, Kaitou." Yuusuke's lips brush against his forehead. "It was... a hard battle, but I'm all right. Besides, you're not allowed to worry about _me_ when I'm worrying about _you_."

Natsumi gives Yuusuke's shoulder a shove. "We all worry about each other. It's how we manage to all stay sane and not-evil."

Tsukasa pouts. "I think I should resent that."

Kaitou gives a snort of disdain. "Only if you and I are really going to stop resembling that."

Yuusuke's fingers massage against his scalp again, and his voice is a low whisper in Kaitou's ear. "I think you're both doing a fine job moving away from those ghosts of the past."

"Ghosts don't tend to go to sleep that easily." Kaitou whispers the words back to Yuusuke, though he pitches his voice such that the other two can hear.

Tsukasa doesn't whisper, though he pitches his voice so that it's quiet, husky. "You'd be surprised at how easy it is to lay ghosts to rest, with the right people at your side."

"We're proud of you, Daiki." Natsumi's lips against his cheek are feather-light this time, a ghost kiss, a princess' boon for a knight. "Just accept that for a few minutes, all right?"

"If you insist." Kaitou relaxes down into the bedding. "And keep making it so nice."

Closing his eyes, Kaitou shivers in bliss as Natsumi, Yuusuke and Tsukasa all pet and stroke him, a hero's welcome for someone who is still just a man... but maybe, just maybe, a better man than he was yesterday.


End file.
